


Easy Assignment

by Hambone



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Extremely Unpleasent, Lies, M/M, hinted at relationships, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 22:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2000685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blurr takes his new team on their first mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easy Assignment

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfiction I ever wrote, way back in the day, but I decided to revamp it a bit and post it. HEED THE WARNINGS, THIS IS VERY, VERY NASTY.

It was supposed to be an easy assignment. That’s what Longarm Prime had called it, specifically, as he slid the datapad containing to location of the supposed rebel group in the sub tunnels beneath the city into Blurr’s fidgety servos. Having only been agents for a meta-cycle now, Blurr’s younger team had been more than excited to be given a real mission, with the threat of meeting real anti-Autobot action, even if it was only supposed to be reconnaissance. They were well trained, but inexperienced. His leadership skills were shaky at best, and as nervous as they were for their opening night in the field, he was tenfold that. He was good at hiding it, though. He was ready.

They were not rebels, though, they were Decepticons, they had been waiting for them. Their orders had been to fall back if they were spotted, but there was no way they could avoid combat when they were surrounded, not like this. Blurr had seen at least two of his comrades go down before he himself was swept off his feet by a blast that landed far too close for comfort. Ambushing in the tunnels had been a smart move on the Decepticon’s side, as there was little room to run. Nowhere to escape. He needed to get them out.  

He hit the ground rolling, back on his feet again just in time to avoid another shot from the left. Spitting gravel, he flew past the Decepticon grunt aiming at him, trying desperately to round up the few Autobots he could still see amidst the rubble. Quarters were close; they hadn’t been prepared for this. Blurr knew how to navigate but they were too surprised. It was easy to forget, in the beginning, all the routines and subroutines you had memorized for years prior. Only through action came clarity. You had to not only practice but memorize, until it was not something you thought but something you did on instinct, pure reaction.

A flash of green caught his eye, and he shot after it, hoping to Primus it was a ‘Bot he’d spotted and not the unsavory alternative. The tunnels were practically a maze, and the last thing he needed was one of his own getting lost down here. Not on the first day. Rounding corner after corner, Blurr began to wonder if he had seen anything at all, or if his processor had sprung a glitch. There was nothing, nothing, nothing-

It would be unfair to say the shot came out of nowhere, because, had Blurr been paying attention to the tunnel walls more closely, he would have easily caught sight of the red bolt of electricity growing bright against the shade of the passage. As it was, his optics were focused straight ahead, into the larger passage where the bulk of bots would have fled, where the hulking mass of a Decepticon would logically be. He did not think of an alternative, blinded by fear and a strong sense of direction that allowed little outside governing to sway it.

Such is life.

The shock from the blast was strong enough to throw him, and this time he was unable to stop himself from landing face first on the floor. Blurr pushed himself up on his elbows just in time to receive a hit in the dead center of his back, sending him back into the ground with enough force to dent the front of his chest plate, glass crunching and skittering out all around him like a firework. His vents stalled violently, and he gasped in an attempt to start them again, spark ablaze.

The sound of a T-cog activating spurred him to roll over, trying to locate his attacker, but all he saw was a flash of grey as he was pinned by a hand big enough to wrap around his waist easily. The mech was not gentle with him, and he felt the mesh of his midsection compressing beneath clawed servos. He yelled, a wordless squawk of noise that echoed down the tunnel, praying someone was near and alert, if not to save himself then to at least save them. There was no reply.

Blurr grasped at his attacker, uselessly trying to push them off. The lack of cool air cycling in his system caused his sensors to scramble, and all he could see was blotches of pixilated color, dark grays and browns from the tunnel walls and a mass of the deep plum purple the Decepticon army had inducted as their calling card. A red light glowed brightly from above, and for a moment he panicked, thinking the canon that had shot him down earlier was being aimed directly at his face. Then the light moved lower and as his vision focused it became apparent that it was not the gathering of a weapons charge, but one enormous optical sensor. Blurr was stunned into stillness for a moment, staring dumbly at the black plane of a face slowly emerging from the mess of coding that had crept into the edges of his processor.

Blurr was at the top of his class in the Autobot’s training facility, and then again listed very high among the recorded test results from his training in the Elite Guard. He had fought courageously against liberation rioters before, had assisted his superior Longarm Prime in the securing of ships that had come back to Cybertron with unwanted stowaways. He may have been part of the Guard for less time than most, but there was no denying he was a mech with great potential. Being such, he was well versed with the files on the higher ranking Decepticons; ones who had committed unspeakable acts of treason, war crimes going beyond the normal fare of battle.

 In his classes, he had studied them closely, learning their schematics and names, watching what little footage of them remained with eager eyes. It was easy to drink up the exploits of these monsters through datapads and file screens, turning them into nothing more than numbers and figures. After cycles of absorbing the information on them, Blurr was sure he knew everything there was to know about the Decepticon higherarchy. He thought he was prepared for the day he’d come face to face with Megatron and his officers, most likely standing strong next to his fellow Elite Guard and admired Prime. He thought he would be ready, undaunted by their past crimes.

As Shockwave’s single optic bathed his face in red light, he came to the realization that he had been very wrong.

“What have we here?” Shockwave drawled, the white slit of his pupil slowly rolling over Blurr’s captive frame.

“I would have thought a member of the Elite Guard would prove more of a challenge.”

Blurr wound up his legs, segmented servos clicking into place, and kicked Shockwave in the breastplate, repeatedly.

It was obvious the Decepticon had not been expecting further retaliation, and he gasped, arching back away from Blurr in pain. Blurr felt the claws around his waist loosen their grip and jabbed the sharp plating along his forearm into the mesh lining between Shockwave’s claws and hand. The metal buckled and split, energon spurting from the wound through pressurized cabling. The hand released him completely, and Blurr aimed another series of kicks at the already dented plating on Shockwave’s chassis, directly onto the face of his Decepticon mark. It scuffed but did not fade, not a decal but a literal brand, and his toe segments caught and dented against the edge.

Shockwave’s other hand slammed down hard on both of Blurr’s legs at once, curling his servos around them and holding them in place. Gears crunched against each other painfully as they attempted to continue spinning, and the force of it jolted Blurr’s entire body off the ground for a full ten nano-kliks. He yelled in surprise and pain, trying to focus on Shockwave’s face and exiting out of several internal errors alerting him of his systems failure. When he hit the ground again it was not soft and he gasped for air, rapidly overheating.

Shockwave eyed him, face a literal blank slate.

“It seems you are always trying to run away, aren’t you, little ‘Bot?” Blurr ground his dental grill, bracing his servos against the floor beneath him as his lower half was lifted off the ground again, this time not by his own doing.

“You will _not_ get away with this you know there are very important people involved in this inspection the Autobot Intelligence Bureau _will_ hear about this I can assure you right now they will catch you they will find me they will find you and me and they will stop-!”

“Mmm,” Shockwave cut in, quietly unimpressed, “even your mouth seems to enjoy running.”

His grip on Blurr’s stabilizing servos tightened marginally, his other hand retuning to its place on Blurr’s chest piece, holding him down. A single claw brushed across the black glass and blue paint, leaving a thin scratch noticeably down where it was not already marred. It paused in the middle of Blurr’s Elite Guard crest, the winged Autobot insignia placed directly over the thrum of his spark chamber.

“I wonder, what makes you think it will save you?”

Metal squealed as it buckled, Shockwave easily crushing both of Blurr’s boots.

Blurr’s chassis rocked back against the floor, his vocalizer shorting into a static burst.  His vision was crowded by an explosion of damage reports, blinding him, though it didn’t matter much as his optics had off-lined the moment his system went into shock. Blurr could vaguely tell his arms were flailing, grabbing at something. His entire processor was on fire, attempting to assess the problem and reboot the sensory nodes in his legs, unable to comprehend the fact that the vast majority of them had been completely destroyed. The pain was incredible, unfathomable.

Shockwave watched the little mech squirm beneath him, gripping the very hands that kept him pinned in blind panic. He recorded every twitch and shock, storing it away for later use. Some of the pistons in Blurr’s legs were still flexing, trying to move away from Shockwave’s grip. The acidic smell of fresh energon filled his olfactory senses, and he released a long cycle of air at the pleasant familiarity.

After a brief pause, Shockwave released both of Blurr’s legs. The crumpled metal hit the ground loudly, splashing into the puddle of energon that was forming around his knees. Another wave of agony lanced through Blurr’s systems, this time jolting him from his stupor enough to wrench an actual scream from his throat. His optics flickered online, trying to blink away the pixelled fuzz caused by his scrambled circuitry.

Through it all, Shockwave eyed him coolly. Blurr was trying hold himself up by his arms now, trembling violently. He could imagine the various warnings showing up behind those blue optics, calling attention to even the most minor of faults in his chassis, alerting him to his vastly depleted energon levels. He didn’t have to rely much on his own creativity; he could smell Blurr’s fear. Every wavering sob that escaped his vocalizer wafted air, thick with defensive nanites, into his sensory range, the weak attempt at closing off his EM field failing spectacularly as Shockwave’s superior energies enveloped him. His brightened bio lights, tiny tapping fingers, the primal rasp of his voice – they were all Shockwave’s spies.

_“You- you- wh-!”_ Blurr’s speech had not slowed at all, but sputtered out, grainy with static. Agony stunted his thoughts, systems rerouting energy to his most basic of functions.

“Well, Autobot?” Shockwave droned. “I eagerly await your retaliation.”

Had he been in a better condition, Blurr might have seen the futility in trying to escape. As it was, all he could think was to run, that he needed to move, to get away somehow. He couldn’t bear to look down at the twisted hunks of leaking metal that had once been his legs. Digging his servos deeps against the ground he pulled himself over, onto his chest, choking out a cracked sob as he shifted his wounds against the ground. His optics fizzled and spat, globs of light burning outward as his optical filament overheated. He wanted to hide his face, the little trail of drool crawling from his mouth, the concrete cool and welcoming against his gut even as bits of glass from his own chest cut into him. Blurr began to crawl.

It was rather amusing to watch. Shockwave had sent many Autobots to the scrapheap in his day, but this was different. Special, as much as the word grated him to think. He wondered vaguely what kind of glitch must occur in a mech’s mind under such duress that would cause him to act so undignified in the face of an opponent. They all died the same, mindless beasts of fear. Not that he minded much, not here and now. This was _special._  

“I did not grant you leave.”

Shockwave hooked a servo around Blurr’s waist, pulling him back into his own mess easily. The mech groaned in pain, vents cycling so quickly it was impressive he hadn’t fallen into systems reboot. Everything about him was fast, though. He would burn out before succumbing to unconsciousness. His massive faceplate swung down to hover above Blurr, who jolted gently in his grip. Shockwave focused for a moment on his quarry’s face, noting with some pleasure that Blurr still had the hardwiring to glare at him weakly. A physical response schooled into him, not a true reflection of his emotions.

“You can’t tell me that, you can’t control me, I’m not your, I’m not- let me go or you will regret it I promise you **I promise you** you will Decepticon, Decepticon monster-!”

He could not continue, clawing at the floor, pushing his knees against Shockwave’s hand as it held him tight, spitting and thrashing.

“Be still.”

But he wouldn’t. There was not threat of escape, not chance of him even making it out of the passage alive, but Shockwave still felt the urge to assert himself in a way he knew was universally understood. Positioning his thumb above Blurr’s belly, he very slowly pressed down, the mesh spreading smoothly apart even with the bluntness of the instrument used. At first Blurr only writhed harder, angry, snapping his jaws like an animal, but as he drew his thumb across and the split began to widen, his movements slid from enraged into desperate.

“What are you doing _what are you doing-!”_

Energon bubbled from the wound, a light froth from the thinnest of external cables. The cut extended, a wide grin along Blurr’s gut, and he allowed himself the pleasure of savoring the Autobot’s tinny scream as his own innards were revealed. Once done carving his niche, Shockwave’s claw slid gently inside, only tickling the exposed wiring, tapping lightly against one of Blurr’s fuel tanks, closest to the bottom and peeking shyly through his armor padding. Blurr gagged and screamed again.

_“No Primus no stop oh no oh please no!”_

Shockwave was sighed, so warm. Blurr was so, so small, so delicate. It made his spark well with sweetness, adoration.

“Will you listen to me then?”

Blurr was inconsolable, a mess, begging, howling with terror. He nodded, burying his face in his hands, babbling something akin to an affirmative. It was enough. He knew the limitations of the body in and out, knew he could push their play further, but it was enough for now. Removing his claws, he waited until Blurr had settled some, shaking with the pain of waiting. The God of his new world, Shockwave took mercy on him.

He went to work immediately, lowering his sensory antennas down to Blurr’s dented chassis. They traced slowly up the protruding curve of his chest plates, tasting the chipped paint and compact alloy. Blurr was thin and lightweight, streamlined for efficiency. Even the finely tuned nodes in Shockwave’s headgear had a difficult time locating the seam that would open to reveal his spark. He avoided his stomach, knowing better, though he longed to sample what lay beneath. He could only go so far, though.

Continuing upwards, he lazily felt Blurr’s armored shoulders, noting the distinct thinning of sensors there. He tilted his head to the side, allowing one appendage to smoothly run along his prey’s neck and across his jaw line, enjoying the feeling of Blurr’s internal mechanics shuddering and the taste of his solvent fluids almost as much as the disgusted way Blurr tried to pull his head back from the touch. He allowed it, sitting up to watch as the Autobot rubbed at his face with one shaking hand, frightened and angry and hurting.

Then he went lower. The first, and most important part, was Blurr’s damaged pedes, one of which he pinched between his servos and lifted again, reveling in the quiet choking noise Blurr made as he was again tugged onto his back. Ignoring Blurr’s pain, Shockwave poked and prodded every wrinkle and crevice he could find, soaking his antenna in the glowing pink energon there. He counted the number of crippled struts and crushed nodes he found, tasted the acrid tang of Blurr’s bodily fluids. It was too good, too full of a feeling. He shuddered. How long he had waited.

Lying back on the floor, Blurr shuttered his optics again. He had no idea what the Decepticon was doing to him or why. He could hardly remember why he was down here in the first place. His own stupid mistake. It hurt, everything hurt. He began to realize, with the utmost certainty, that he was going to be murdered here. He was going to die.

Blurr shuddered violently again, unable to stop the frightened hitch in his vocalizer as he felt the sharp protrusions on the end of the antenna catch in a particularly sensitive fold in his crippled legs. Mustn’t think about that, not right now. Too much information, too bad, too painful, too nasty. Keep it back, push it out. It will end eventually.

Shockwave slid further up, past the point of damage to Blurr’s slim thighs. Pink energon streaked across the black mesh, all the way down to the fork of his crotch. Shockwave’s internal cooling system turned on, fans rumbling to life.

Blurr jolted again at the sound. He was not so far gone as to not recognize what it signified. Shockwave was moving in now, feeling and tasting and touching far, far too close, and it was enough to make Blurr push himself up for what felt like the millionth time, bending forward and ignoring the alert windows popping up in his processor. He grabbed an antenna tightly, halting it in its progression.

_“_ Stop,stop _-you-can’t-it’s-not-please-please-don’t-!”_ Shockwave shuddered at the feeling, his slit pupil flicking upwards to meet Blurr’s panicked expression. The small servos did little more than titillate him further, slipping in the energon that covered his antennas and rubbing over tender spots. The red of his optic darkened considerably and he purred. He could smell him. He could _smell_ him.

Pulling back, out of those tiny hands, Shockwave shifted his claws until he was gripped both of Blurr’s legs at the knee joint, just above the damaged area. No longer having something to give him purchase, Blurr slumped back on his arms, trying to stay focused. Shockwave gently spread them apart, ignoring when Blurr tried to jerk away. He slid one claw down through the mess of energon, gently scoring a line into the mesh of Blurr’s inner thigh until he reached his goal.

Every part of Blurr was smooth and seamless, designed for speed. He had no need for an elaborate codpiece as some mechs had, his interface panel a smooth and invisible cup between his legs. Shockwave gently ran one finger over the area, relishing Blurr’s continued begging until the tip just barely caught in the thin crevice.

“Ah.” Shockwave could not keep the excited lilt from his voice, digging the claw marginally deeper and causing Blurr to rake his fingers against the ground, choking on air.

“Primus I just, I can’t I-can’t-I-can’t-Ican’tIcan’tIcan’t-!”

Several sections of light in Shockwave’s optic switched off until it was nothing more than a red band dividing his face-plate. His servo flexed, once, and Blurr’s interface panel wrenched back, tender circuitry snapping and pulling. Blurr sobbed loudly, retracting the panel in panic before Shockwave could rip it the rest of the way off. The bent mechanisms no longer fit, though, and they caught and screeched in place until the Deception pulled them away anyhow. Blurr flopped up, helm whirling from side to side.

It didn’t matter. Shockwave traced his claw over the rim, mildly surprised when he pulled it back wet, a thin strand of lubricant obscenely connecting them for a moment. Of course, he should have expected it. Blurr built up a lot of friction, moving so fast, far more than a regular mech. It was only logical that the lower half of his body would constantly be steeped in the stuff. Therefore, this was likely not a sexual reaction, just a normal state of being, an increased level of production due to his struggles. Regardless, it would make the next part much easier.

Blurr wanted to stop looking but he couldn’t, because Shockwave was there, between his crumpled legs, moving to hold both of them apart, leaning his face in again to get a closer look, and it was not okay. He wasn’t sure now if he would have preferred to have off lined earlier, when Shockwave had first crushed his legs, but his systems were still blaring new warnings every nano-kilk and he could feel an awful lethargy creeping through him as he lost more and more energon, and he couldn’t focus on anything right now except the places Shockwave was touching him and hoping to Primus that it would just end, one way or another.

One of Shockwave’s antennas flitted down, tasting the lubricant slowly beginning to drip from Blurr’s equipment. Blurr was disgusted by the way his body reacted to the touch, loosening itself in preparation, in fear. He touched, only briefly, on his external node, plush and bright, alive with feeling. Shockwave’s cooling fans roared.

A familiar clicking sounded echoed through the tunnel as Shockwave slid back his own cover, fully pressurized spike curving smoothly up between his hips.

Panic churned inside Blurr like a sickness.

_“Stopstopstopstopstopstopstopstop!”_

The assault continued. Instead of freeing him, Blurr found himself pressed closer, until the tip of Shockwave’s spike bobbed softly against the lips of his valve. He paused, savoring the wetness, the taste of the Autobot’s lubricants still fresh on his sensors.

Shockwave pushed, slowly.

Blurr was small, so much smaller than Shockwave or even most Decepticons, and he was tight enough to be almost painful. It would have been more so, had Shockwave been more desperate and sheathed himself fully, but there was no rush. Blurr’s static-laced wail reverberated through the darkness, darker than before, and it took Shockwave several nano-kliks before he realized that he had actually off-lined his optical sensor. He vented out air deeply, lazily looking down at the where they were connected, the swell and curve of Blurr’s unprepared cut opening up to him, as if they were made, against all odds, to fit together.

Inching his way in, Shockwave marveled at the fact Blurr hadn’t split a seam yet. His valve stretched exquisitely, denting the lining and surrounding mesh, bulging up through his stomach, nearly approaching his grinning wound. His legs were spread so wide around the Decepticon’s waist they had almost dislocated from their sockets. Unable to cope with the relentless sensation, Blurr had set one hand clawing in the viscous pool of energon surrounding his frame, his other arm covering his face in a mix of agony and shame. He was stunned by this, genuinely stunned, unable to cope, to process the violence.

After what felt like eons, Shockwave seated his spike fully inside the smaller mech, rather pleased with himself. Blurr squirmed like a hooked worm, helpless, caught. He was hotter and wetter than had been expected, drooling down between them like molten lead. Shockwave felt his own frame’s temperature rise steadily, reacting to the nice surprise.  

He moved, then. Pulling back out carefully, he tested the slickness, the give in Blurr’s internal walls making him shudder involuntarily. Blurr was gagging on his own solvent byproduct, drool in fat droplets streaking down the dust and energon. Shockwave was humming pleasantly above him, moving back and forth, back and forth. Blurr was afraid to look between them because he was sure that he had been torn in half, that all he would see was the shriveled stubs of his legs and pink everywhere.

Rough servos gripped his face, forcing his gaze up. The single red optic shone over him in the dark, bobbing up and down in accordance to the movement of their bodies. Expressionless and dark, it bored into him.

Blurr wanted to scream, but all that came out when he opened his mouth was another shuddering sob. He couldn’t tear his optics away from the Decepticon’s, gaping and wide, filled with something unreal, beyond understanding. Shockwave cycled out deep gasps of air, feeling oddly stirred by the optical contact. He released one of Blurr’s broken pedes, which swung to the floor like a dead thing, and brought his servos up to cup the side of the Autobot’s head as best he could. Surprisingly, Blurr did not try to escape his touch this time, staring at him through pools of liquid.

He stroked down the side of Blurr’s face, petting him. Cooling fluids and condensation pooled against his claws when he lingered in one spot to long, energon pooling beneath him. He felt Blurr’s valve clench spasmodically around him, and he had to stop himself from gasping, overwhelmed by emotion he was unprepared to admit to feeling.

Shockwave loomed closer, until his face plate was mere inches away from Blurr’s. The moistening air between them turned to steam as their heat combined. Blurr gripped the side of Shockwave’s enormous arm, because he needed something hold onto. Everything below his waist was burning and wet, and the pressure was unbearable.   

 Another gush of lubricants below and Shockwave could not keep his temperament steady. Despite himself he thrust faster, harder, unable to savor the slow mockery of love-making as he had before. Blurr’s chest plates glowed dimly in the dark. Shockwave moved his servos away from Blurr’s face and dug the tips of his claws into the seam of his spark casing. This time Blurr didn’t respond fast enough, and Shockwave tore the glass paneling clean off, not even pausing to note the cleanness of the break or evaluate the craftsmanship of the casing as he delved his servos inside.

Blurr heaved dryly. Shockwave fondled the spark between his first and third fingers, carefully. So easily, he could twitch his claws, just once, and extinguish the life beneath him. Instead, he stroked it softly, as he had done before, adoring. The spark was dimmer than it should have been, undoubtedly due to the significant loss of energon in his systems, but still somewhat engorged. He ran the tip of a claw over it just hard enough to sting, and it pulsed in response.

They continued moving together, faster than before. Blurr’s sobs hitched increasingly in decibel as Shockwave fingered his life force, processor close to shorting out as it tried to compensate the needs of each particular sensation. He tore at his own helm, too frightened to fight, to mindless to remain still. Shockwave was dangerously close, and rougher because of it. The back casing of Blurr’s chassis was screeching noticeably as it roughed against the gravel. Little bolts of energy were sprinkling out of Blurr’s spark, and Shockwave gripped the Autobot’s thigh so tightly he felt the metal buckle to keep himself from crushing it.

He pushed deeper with both spike and servo, and Blurr clenched around him violently. His back struts stretched to full capacity, he arched off the ground and wailed as Shockwave thrust once, twice, three times more. Blurr overloaded, a shower of sparks cascading from his chest cavity, burning tiny spots into the servos that clutched it. A thick wave of lubricant poured out around Shockwave’s spike, which throbbed.

No longer caring to tend to Blurr’s condition, Shockwave grabbed both his thighs and rutted into him. His optic senor shot black, and all he could feel was the wonderful slickness in everything he touched. His servos scored deep scratches into the already pitted metal, drawing what little energon was left to the surface.

Below him, Blurr was screaming something, actual words this time.

“Please Primus I can’t oh-Primus-Primus stop stop stop stop **_Shockwave_** _stop_ - _!_ ”

Shockwave launched into overload, pulling himself so deeply into Blurr that he felt the valve lining push dents further inward than it ever should. Transfluid bubbled out around his spike, far too much to keep from overflowing the sides of Blurr’s wrecked interface equipment. The bulge in his stomach trembled and energon spurted anew from his gut, painting stripes down his waist.

The little bot’s screaming petered out into fractured, whiney breaths as they both cooled down. Shockwave onlined his optic again and pulled out slowly, watching with some satisfaction as his deflating spike’s removal caused a wave of transfluid and lubricant to flood out with it, unsurprisingly laced with thin streams of energon. Unfortunately, Blurr was not the only one who had been soiled by this experience. Shockwave’s hands were more than stained with pink, his antennas, crotch, and knees covered with nearly everything Blurr had to give.

 It had been worth it. Twitching and gasping on the floor, Blurr painted such a pretty picture.

Blurr could see the Decepticon stand, observing him with the same blankness as ever. He thought it was time now; he was going to be shot and off-lined. Laying his head back, he stared at the wall to his left, cycling slowly. This was it. It was over.

Instead, Shockwave turned and left.

 

* * *

 

 

It was several cycles before he was found. There was no disguising what had happened, and the scout was noticeably disturbed. There had been flashing lights, and overly-gentle voices asking if he was alright, could he still move, was his processor damaged any. Blurr wanted to respond, but his vocalizer shorted and spat sparks when he tried. Eventually, some proper medics arrived and he was jettisoned out of the darkness. There was energon everywhere. He did not see signs of his team.

In the med-bay, they draped a tarp over the lower half of his body as they worked, for modesty’s sake. Medics crowded around his berth, shooting him up with various coding patches, attaching drum after drum of energon to his fuel lines. The pain never left, throbbing through him with every pulse of his spark. It was deeper than his frame.

They put him into a forced stasis, apologetically, in order to remove a large portion of his pedes. Blurr was made of specialty items, not easy to procure. They assured him it would not take more than an orbital-cycle to get him fixed up, but he knew from experience that it would more likely be a deca-cycle before anything came of it. He did not care. He could not imagine lifting himself to walk again.

When he rebooted, Longarm Prime was there. Looking more solemn than Blurr had ever seen him, he took his agent’s servos in his own and held them tightly. His hands shook. Lowering himself until he met Blurr’s face level, Longarm looked him right in the optics and apologized, profusely; for sending him on that assignment, for not being there to help, for taking so long to find him. He wanted to help. His mouth curled and trembled, the force of his emotion buckling his words. _Oh, Blurr, I love you so much._ He asked Blurr if he remembered anything, if there was any piece of information they could use to help find the Decepticon scum who had done this.

Blurr stared at the red circle on Longarm’s forehead and said no.


End file.
